


crying underwater the last few years

by lofts



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofts/pseuds/lofts
Summary: working in a state of fearcrying underwater the last few yearsspent inside a house i hatepaper peeled off the walls i create[ eva angelina - coma cinema ]dom has a nightmare + lofty comforts him





	crying underwater the last few years

**Author's Note:**

> bleep bloop this isnt the first fic ive published however i made a new account bc theres some weird shit on my old one i cba to delete. theres sleep paralysis and description of a nightmare in this so i hope it isnt too heavy. lots of love xxxxxx - max

It started when Dom woke up.

He can’t tell if he actually _has_ or not. His body is awake, but his mind is still dreaming. Locking him to his bed no matter how hard he tries to resist, his brain just isn’t powerful enough to snap from it. A million thoughts run through him at once, and he feels them from top to toe. His breathing speeds up as a subconscious reflex to something his brain is creating but his eyes can’t see. His body feels like it’s imploding; his insides are being crushed, suffocating him from all angles. His legs begin to ache from the adrenaline sitting dormant in his veins.

A few seconds later, Dom sits up. He isn’t sure how long that really lasted. He rubs his eyes forcefully, and breathes so deep it makes his ribs ache.

It’s here he realises it started when he fell asleep.

He’s in Keller. Or rather, the ward is laid out like Keller, but the rooms on the outer edges are that of AAU, and the nurses’ station has disappeared. Dom is standing, watching faceless doctors bustle around. Every bed is occupied, except one.

Dom approaches this bed and sits on it.

A man comes up to him. I’m just going to check your blood pressure quickly, Dominic, he says. No, Dom replies. No, he’s a doctor, he’s not a patient, he doesn’t need his blood pressure checked. The man chuckles and tells him it’s okay, securing the cuff around his upper arm. Dom didn’t see where it came from.

The cuff tightens and Dom tries to say out loud that no, he doesn’t need his blood pressure checked. He works here. I’m a doctor, he stutters. A registrar. The man laughs again, placing a reassuring hand on Dom’s back. The cuff gets tighter. Dom looks down, hoping his berry red scrubs can prove to this man that he’s not telling lies – but his skin is cold with the fabric of a hospital gown. The cuff is getting tighter still, and Dom begins to panic, and _he knows this man._ This isn’t a stranger, this isn’t an acquaintance. It hits him like a slap in the face. This is someone much, _much_ worse.

He looks down and his arm is purple. The man is smiling at him.

He wakes up. He sits up. He breathes.

There’s a noise from outside his bedroom. Under the door, he sees a faint glow and a shadow.

Right. The light switches off and a few seconds later, the door opens slowly. Dom is still sat up, head falling as he continues his ritualised breathing. In for five, hold for five, out for ten. In for five, hold for five, out for ten.

“Did I wake you?”

Dom can’t quite reply yet. In for five, hold for five, out for ten.

“Hey, are you alright?”

The mattress dips. A gentle hand is placed on Dom’s back; his muscles tighten and he quickly shakes it off. The hand retreats.

“Sorry.”

Dom’s brain is flitting between images like fingers skimming a filing cabinet. An unorganised, unalphabetised collection that’s so stuffed full, yet completely empty at the same time. On second three of holding, he finds it. He wasn’t in the ward for the entirety of his dream. No, before that, he was drinking coffee. He was in the nurses’ station – before it seemingly vanished into thin air – sipping coffee and _laughing_. He can’t remember what at, but he remembers who with.

Dom realises it started when Lofty got out of bed.

Kind, gentle, perfect Lofty, sitting tentatively next to him. Kind Lofty, who will give up anything and everything for anyone and everyone, if only it made them happy. Gentle Lofty, who will rub your back to soothe you, but understand when you can’t be touched. Dom turns his head to look at him.

Perfect Lofty, who’s curls look much the same late at night as they do during his midday shift. Messy, clumsy, perfect Lofty and his messy, clumsy, perfect curls.

Lofty gives him a small smile. “Is it okay now?”

Dom nods. He thinks so. Lofty’s demeanour seems to relax slightly. Dom reaches out with fingers that tremble at first, to find the hand he’d scared away. He holds it loosely and lifts it up by the wrist, twisting his own limb to try and put it back. Lofty senses what he’s doing with a quietly breathed laugh, and places his hand himself, softly between Dom’s shoulders. Dom breathes in for five and leans into his side.

They sit like this for a minute or two, quiet and contemplative. Lofty moves his arm around Dom’s shoulder to bring him closer. Their breathing syncs up, slowly in and out together, and Dom stops counting. They feel like one being.

“Do you want to talk or sleep?” Lofty whispers. Dom buries his head further into his chest. He concentrates on its rising, slightly hitched, then falling evenly.

“Talk,” he answers.

Dom pulls away from the embrace and sits up on his own. Lofty is watching him with a kind intent; one that says, take your time, without actually saying anything. Dom feels at ease just for being around him.

“It was my dream,” he begins, switching his gaze from his lap to Lofty’s face, then back to his lap. “I was with you, at work, and… we were just talking. It was really ordinary. I had coffee and we were laughing at something.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Lofty tries to joke. The both notice the sad tone lingering in his voice.

Dom can’t link the two sections of his dream. It just goes from one to the other. He hesitates before saying, “then you left.”

Lofty’s reaction doesn’t change. He just listens. “The ward changed, and there was this empty bed. I went to sit on it, and –” Dom’s words catch in his throat. “He came up to me.”

Lofty doesn’t need to ask. He knows who. He picks up on the change in Dom’s quiet voice, the discreet wringing of his hands, and knows where this is going. He wraps his arm around his shoulders, but still doesn’t say anything.

“I was scared,” Dom admits, through a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. In for five. Hold for five. “I couldn’t move. I wasn’t a doctor anymore.” Dom shivers with a held back sob and when Lofty pulls him in, he lets it out.

“It’s just me, you know,” he soothes. “You won’t get hurt again.”

Dom nods and wipes his nose. “I know.”

“I mean that,” Lofty insists, “you won’t have to go back there.”

Dom smiles through glassy eyes. “I know. It’s just… just my subconscious playing tricks on me. You know, I think it only started when you got up. When you – when you got out of bed. Because before we were just talking and it was a boring dream. I woke up kind of quickly after,” Dom falters; “after Isaac appeared.”

Lofty squeezes his shoulders reassuringly. “I only went to the toilet,” he laughs softly. Dom musters up a weak smile in response.

In for five, hold for five, out for five. “I’m okay now.”

He lifts his head up and looks at Lofty properly. Beautiful, kind, gentle, clumsy, perfect Lofty. He gives him a small kiss. Lofty smiles.

Dom suddenly turns around, furrowing his brows. “Hey, what time even is it?”

Lofty pauses before laughing quietly. “I don’t know,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table next to his pillow. Squinting slightly, he reads aloud that it’s six o’clock on the dot. Dom sighs dramatically.

“What do you reckon, one extra hours sleep?” he sounds like he’s joking, but when Lofty puts his phone down and turns back around, his head has already hit the hay. Lofty shakes his head, but lies down next to him, kicking the covers with his feet to bring them up to their waists. He turns onto his side to look at Dom, who’s already looking at him. His gaze is soft, loving, and Lofty wonders what he did to deserve this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lofty can’t help but ask. Dom smiles with his eyes.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
